The Redeemer
by Sarge51
Summary: A lone figure has wandered the wastes for so long that even they cannot remember the reason as to why.
1. Chapter 1

The Sun was high in the sky, not that anyone would be able to tell. The skies were blanketed with thick layers of black clouds, green lightning striking out like angry vipers. Thunder echoed on the winds as the green bolts stuck out and attempted to find prey of any form. The land was torn and burnt, the heat of nuclear and atomic war had taken it's tolls.

A lone figure could be seen walking old interstate route 90. The highway had long since been elevated and a second deck added. He currently walked the lower deck as to avoid the irradiated rainfall from the radiation storm above. His rifle was currently in his hands, close to his chest in a resting position and a long barreled revolver rested in a holster at his waist. A large dirty green rucksack was on his back and seemed to be packed tightly.

The man walked in a staccato rhythm, keeping pace to the beat of the songs that played over his helmets comm systems. He wore a long green leather trench coat that faded to brown towards the tail and had pockets on the biceps and chest. His shoulders were covered by green composite armor. He wore a high-collar green armored vest to protect his chest that was crisscrossed by a bandoleer of ammunition and another that had several pockets. His wrists were covered in the same green armor, his hands covered in dark leather gloves that were reinforced with small plates on the back of his hand and fingers. His pants were dark brown bdu's that had cargo pockets, the legs tucked into armored boots that came to his knees. The boots were a mixture of leather and armor that protected his knees, shins and feet. His helmet was a military green with a faded white E surrounded by stars on the side.

His face was covered by a built in gas mask with two hoses going to a filtration pack on the back of his mask. The mask had red lenses, a night vision system built in that would make the red lenses glow in low-light areas. The gas mask filtered all the air he breathed and the helmet helped seal his body from the exposure of the radioactive wasteland. It also had a communications system built in that had a small antenna that rose from a large mass of electronics and armor that covered his right ear.

He looked down at the faithful companion he held. The rifle had been with him so very long. He had long since lost count of the days since the fall of the bombs. He knew he should be dead, yet he still lived and roamed the wastes, the rifle in his hands were a great part of his survival.

The rifle was special, not only in a sentimental sense, because it was of a limited number of high powered anti-material rifles. His rifle fired a .50 caliber round, capable of piercing armor up to two inches thick with a maximum range of 2300 metres. It was his baby, his special companion that had saved his life more times than he could count. He had long since gotten used to carrying it and it's heavy ammunition. It was worth the weight to have the extra effective range and firepower.

He had been walking for Gods knew how long. His legs ached and burned, yet he kept marching. He had made a promise to himself that he would keep going. He had to keep fighting his fight and keep marching on. He didn't know why, he just knew that he had to. He had to find his purpose in life...he could let his past be his only accomplishments...

* * *

The skies had cleared a few klicks back and the fog had finally left him. The sky was shining brightly down on him. The lower deck of the highway had fallen or crumbled away, so he was forced to walk the upper deck. The Sun was beating down upon him, trying it's best to make him submit, but he had long since gotten used to the heat.

The highway stretched long into the distance and he was curious as to how far it truly went. He shouldered his rifle and peered through the highpowered scope. Using the scope he scanned the horizon for anything that might indicate civilization or at the very least life. It didn't take him long to spot something.

In the far distance several tall towers loomed. He redirected his rifle to the roadway and was able to barely make out a sign in the distance. The words were faded, but he could make sense of the white block letters. He was outside the once glorious city of Boston.


	2. Chapter 2

He lay flat upon the asphalt with is faithful rifle shouldered as he scanned the distance, looking for threats and thinking of the best strategy to overcome his newest obstacle, Mercenaries. A large highway interchange was ahead of him and it was practically crawling with the hired guns. He contemplated trying to walk around, but the steep valley to his right and the cliffs to his left had given him little choice.

He was using a turned over car as cover while he studied the fortifications that had been built into the large interchange. The entire interchange had been turned into a fortress. Large turbines were built at the very top that most likely provided power to the turrets and lights. The inhabitants seemed to be well armed Mercenaries. They all wore what appeared to be former U.S. Army combat armor or fatigues and they were far from friendly. They had plenty of lookouts and the occasional patrol, so he didn't see a way to just sneak around them without a distraction of some sort.

Most of the Mercenaries were armed with basic laser rifles. Most were unmodified, but some had modifications that, to him, seemed to be irrelevant and a hindrance. They had splitters on them, it turned the laser rifles single, highly accurate, bolt into many laser bolts that had a far shorter travel distance. The modification meant that they had no way to counter a sniper, not their average grunt anyhow, so he would be able to take them on from his current position.

The simplest solution would be to eliminate someone high up in their chain of command. This would cause panic and disarray and allow him to sneak past while they try to regroup and assess the situation. The question that remained was simple, who's their commander?

Continuing to scan the faces, he stopped at a woman that was wearing power armor. She was blonde, plain, wore sunglasses and was yelling orders to a group of soldiers. The group nodded and started to rush around the fortress, conveying orders. That had to be their commander and her lieutenants. All he had to do was wait for the right time.

He aimed his rifle and centered the cross-hairs on the forehead of the commander. At this distance he would have to compensate for bullet travel and arc, so he would hit her square in the chest. He had no intention of killing her, but if he wounded her she would draw more troops to her. He would be able to take them all out if he was quick enough.

* * *

Slowly and patiently he reached for his scope, making adjustments for the wind and distance. He steadied his breathing, counting one to inhale and two for his exhale. He began squeezing the trigger, watching the woman as she looked out over the soldiers she commanded. The valley of the trigger became shallower and shallower until the trigger resisted. He was a hairs' width away, all he had to do was wait for the perfect moment...

"Get moving ya bunch of lazy fucks!" Yelled Bell. She fucking hated all these scum sucking dirt brains, but she was good at her job. She was hired to keep this checkpoint secure and that was what she was going to do. She spit on the ground to her left, an attempt to get the foul taste of cram out of her mouth. A conscript was carrying ammunition to her quarters and avoided her gaze. Spineless fuck.

She looked out on the rest of her camp. She was proud of her quality of work. She knew how to run a unit and she hadn't been beaten on the battlefield in a long time. She smirked, a feeling of smug assuredness washing over her. That smirk faded however as a small group of men were walking towards her. It was a patrol she had sent out. They seemed to be arguing with one another in hushed voices. One of them whispered harshly to the rest and they silenced, stopping a few metres away. The man on the right, an average looking private with black hair and dirty tan skin, spoke up.

"Commander, Jack here won't shut up about some shit he saw while he was scouting that spooked him." The guy at the back of the group pushed the man at the front towards her. He was a walking stick. What kind of shitheads let this idiot into the ranks?

"What the fuck are you yapping about?" Asked Bell. The guy was shaking in his boots, it almost gave bell a sense of satisfaction, until she realized he was looking out to the highway that stretched away from the Commonwealth. She growled and stomped up to him, her power armor thundering with each step. She grabbed a fistful of the mans shirt, eliciting a cowardly whimper from the man. She got up in his face, teethe barred for him to see. They were sharp and pronounced.

"I asked you a question! What the fuck has you acting like such a baby!? You look like you're about to shit your fucking pants!" She yelled, her voice rough and unpleasant. The man shivered and looked her in the eyes. They look in her eyes reminded her of someone who had seen something horrible. Jack started to speak up, his feet barely touching the ground.

"I..I-I s-saw something. It...it was some...s-some kind o-of ghost. My Pa told me of a g-ghost like it. S-said that if you weren't...pure...he'd kill you. We gotta get outta here! My Pa told me to run for the hills if I ever saw it. That the ghost had wiped out slavers, raiders and mercs all the way from the NCR to the D.C. Wastes!You gotta get us ou-" He was interrupted in his frantic rambling and pleading by being tossed into the other two men. Bell roared at him in anger.

"What the fuck are you?! Some kind of pussy bitch!? There's no one out there for a hundred miles you fuck!" She yelled at them as she walked over to the railing, pointing out towards the wasteland to the west.

"There isn't shit out there except ghouls and bloatflys! No Ghosts that go around on crusades! Now shut your fuckin trap and grow a p-" She stopped her rantings, her breath suddenly lost. She tried to breathe in, to take in the precious oxygen she needed, but she just gasped. She felt a hot sharp pain in her chest. She looked down, the color draining from her face. Her power armor's chest plate had caved in on the right side. Blood was seeping out from under the chest plate and running down her armored legs. She looked back up at the three men who had began yelling for medics. She fell to her knees. Looking on in shock as a group of men and women rushed to her.

Her eyes widened as a loud booming sound, probably the loudest gunshot she'd ever heard, ripped through the air. That's when the horror began to unfold. She watched horrified as she saw heads, arms, and legs get blown off of her soldiers. The louder than what should be possible gunshots echoed in quick succession. She made note of the slight pause, a reload she assumed, in the sounds. Eight bodies lay around the area, blown apart and bleeding profusely. She then heard the sounds again, more troops across her camp were being torn to pieces by high caliber rounds. Some were lucky and their heads were vaporized into a red mist, others were not so lucky.

Screaming echoed out across the interchange, mingling with the snaps of laser rifles as the decreasing number of mercenaries shot out to the east. Blood sprayed into the air, dust and rubble from impacts flying every which way. She felt terror down to her very core. She could hear so many screams of the dying. Men yelled over the screams as they attempted to give orders. Some of the men tried to stem the bleeding of their wounds while others desperately tried to find the shooter.

Her vision started to blacken around the edges. She heard men and women screaming for their mothers. Some begging or asking gods to help them. They all begged not to die. Death still took them. The booming gunshots were becoming fewer and fewer. After a few seconds, they disappeared all together. Her vision was starting to tunnel now.

She heard three more gunshots come from below that were still loud, yet they weren't the booming shots of a few minutes ago. The sniper had just killed her lift guards. She could barely make out the sound of the lift buzzing as it pulled the ghost up to her camp. She felt the feeling of absolute terror as the lift reached the interchange's bottom level, her level. What stepped of the lift is something she could only summed up in one word, demonic.

It was shrouded in a dark green coat that was covered in blood and dirt. It's face was hidden by a metal skull-like mask with glowing red eyes. It was armored heavily on it's shoulders, arms, legs and chest. It looked like a demonic ghost that had came to deliver vengeance upon them. It's shadow was cast over her as it made it's way through the camp, a long barreled revolver in it's right hand. It ended the misery of any victim it found still sobbing in terror. Finally, the demon locked eyes with her. She couldn't help but shake and begin to cry. The figure become shrouded in darkness, only the red eyes glowing from within the shadow as it loomed over her. She looked up to it, the tall demon looking down on her in what she could only assume was disgust. It placed the tip of the barrel against her forehead. Her sobbing was becoming uncontrollable. She had never felt this much fear before in her life. She couldn't stop herself.

"P-please...d-don't k-kill me..."She sobbed as she begged for her life. The demon only pushed the rapidly cooling weapon against her head harder, causing her to lean back and fall, barely catching herself. She could hear what sounded like a gas mask, air being sucked in and expelled. Then...it spoke.

"Remember this," it said. It's voice was deep and rumbled like a rock slide, "you have been judged. The gods have looked at you and you have been found wanting. You were destined to die today..." it said, cocking the hammer back on the revolver. Her eyes flooded anew, the tears streaming down and mixing with her own blood. She tried to speak, but she kept stuttering. She wanted to beg, to beg for her life. She didn't want to die here. She didn't want to die for the god damned Gunners!

"But...all who desire can be granted redemption." He said. Her eyes widened before she saw his had rise, pulling the revolver away from her head. She was frozen in shock. It had to be a trick. Then she saw his empty fist race towards her, the world turning black.


End file.
